Page 8 of Collision of Winters (Hillcroft Group #4)

While his comfort meant the world to me, his…regression or whatever I should call it was another matter. He’d said he was a Middle, a definition as personal as any other identity.

I couldn’t allow our dynamic to shift into anything that remotely resembled D/s. It would be wrong on so many levels, and frankly, it sickened me that a part of me wanted to see him in that environment.

“Breakfast is ready! Also, why are there a million dog cages in the Jeep?”

Four wasn’t a million.

“Because I don’t want them lost in the storm,” I replied. I’d put them in the car after I’d parked it closer to the cabin.

“But why cages in the first place? The doggies are so polite and obedient.”

“Until you get them in a bush plane.” I yawned and rose to my feet. “Tundra and Prince haven’t learned to settle down yet.” And that made the other two restless.

“Oh.”

I pulled on a pair of sweats and walked out of the bedroom. My hip wasn’t hurting too badly this morning, thank God. Kayden had stoked the fire already, so I didn’t have to bother with that.

I spotted him in the kitchen nook, where he was plating eggs, bacon, and some leftovers.

“I’m kinda curious about being caged,” he said.

“I’ll bring one in after we’ve eaten,” I joked.

“Really?” The way he lit up caused the sound of screeching tires in my head.

“Wait, you’re serious?” I asked.

He couldn’t be fucking serious.

He turned sheepish. “Um, yeah. I’ve read about subs who are into bondage, cages, and body suits—they find those restraints, like, super calming. But I don’t know if I have that curiosity because I lack the most basic structure. If I did, maybe the cage would be overcompensating—I don’t know.”

Pump the brakes. Pump the fucking brakes. He was too comfortable bringing this up with me.

I had to divert. Without making him feel like he’d crossed a line. Which meant I had to be painfully honest with him.

I swallowed and scratched the side of my head.

Fuck.

“Don’t worry,” he said quickly. “I wouldn’t actually ask that of you. I know it would be inappropriate.”

It sure fucking would.

Except, it made me wonder… “But you wouldn’t mind?” I had to know.

“Mind what?”

“Being in a kink environment with me,” I replied. “If we ran into each other at an event, you wouldn’t find that strange?”

He chewed on the corner of his lip and shrugged. “I dunno. No, probably not. Maybe? No. No.”

I lifted my brows.

“No,” he repeated with more conviction. “I like talking kink with you. You’re safe.”

Was I, though?

As flattered as I was—and I probably felt a little too good hearing that from him—so many things could go wrong. I refused to risk it. We had an honest chance at building something strong, something that might even bring him back to DC, and I couldn’t throw that away.

We hated having him in Texas.

Kayden carried our breakfast over to the couch, and I asked if there was anything I could do to help. He merely smiled and shook his head, reminding me of another trait that was coming forward. Not only was he letting go of his adult filters, but he was sinking into a sub’s mind-set.

Time for me to speak up.

“I love that you feel safe with me, Kayden,” I started by saying.

“But we might want to set some boundaries for both our sakes. You’ve been having a rough time—you were just released from jail—and you’re finally opening up about what’s made you feel out of sorts.

” To use his words. “I’d like for us to focus on that. ”

I sat down next to him and tried to read his expression. He was staring at his plate and fidgeting with the edge of a blanket on his lap, and I waited for some kind of reaction.

“At the end of the day, we want you to come home, blue,” I murmured.

“When Chris and I decided where to bring you for this intervention, as you put it, we ruled out half a dozen locations solely because you’re a flight risk.

When we try to get closer and get to know you better, you look for the nearest exit. ”

He chewed on the inside of his cheek and dropped his gaze to his lap.

I cleared my throat. “So, while you can always—always—talk to me about BDSM in general terms, I hope you’ll understand that I want our focus on mending everything that’s been wrong.” I reached out and gave his knee a squeeze. “We want to be there for you.”

He swallowed and side-eyed me briefly, as if it was physically painful for him to maintain eye contact.

“Why do you need boundaries?”

“Pardon?”

“You said we needed boundaries—for both our sakes,” he stated. “Why do you need them?”

Oh. Because the lines were getting too blurry.

I released a breath and hoped I was doing the right thing.

“Speaking about kink with you on a personal level makes me uncomfortable,” I admitted. “After everything you’ve been through, you’re in a vulnerable position, and it puts a lot of pressure on me to make sure you don’t get hurt.” I paused. “It’d be like me being your psychiatrist.”

Ironically, I was Chris’s “head doctor,” as he called it.

I’d wanted to spend the rest of my days as a psychiatrist ever since I’d learned about the vocation. But life didn’t always work out the way you planned. I’d burned myself out between leaving the service, finishing med school, and landing my job at Georgetown University Hospital.

The road to recovery had been slow and filled with setbacks, and I could no longer imagine working in a hospital or running my own practice.

I could handle stress well in a crisis, but not as an everyday work feature.

Just thinking about how it’d been could make me dizzy and break out in a cold sweat.

Chris and Quin had offered me a way out in my becoming their in-house specialist in trauma care and PTSD prevention for operators.

It was comfortable but always challenging.

It was exciting yet relaxing, because my patients were men and women I knew.

We all worked in the same building. There was camaraderie and an informal atmosphere in which I thrived.

But aside from Chris, I still maintained an emotional distance from people I called both friends and patients.

I was there for them whenever they needed me, but it wasn’t as if I championed how they ran their personal lives.

We had no misdistribution of power at work. We were equals. Same couldn’t be said for Kayden and me.

“Is this about you struggling to see me as an adult?” he asked uncertainly.

Damn. I felt bad for him. “No. That may have been the case four years ago, but absolutely not today.”

That was part of the problem. When he was younger, I’d had zero confusion, for obvious reasons. His early twenties had been my struggle.

Moving on. Carefully. “But you realize you changed a bit around me yesterday, yes?” I hedged.

“I understand it’s because you’re comfortable, which I adore, but it turns this into a power exchange.

And I can’t use my brotherly powers for evil and make you move back home again if you’re in a submissive mind-set, subconsciously trying to please me. ”

I’d done my best to keep it light, and I was ready to collect brownie points if necessary. Hell, I had a powerful weapon hidden away in the glovebox of my car.

His favorite soft cheese.

But first, the last piece of honesty. “I’m genuinely worried now that this is pushing you away again,” I admitted. “You haven’t done anything wrong. I’m only concerned about ramifications and hurting you. Does that make sense?”

He nodded once but said nothing, and the avoidance of eye contact was back in full force.

I suppressed a sigh and?—

“I’m gonna say what you said yesterday,” he muttered. “I’ll think about all this, okay? I’ll mull it over.”

A breath gusted out of me, and I couldn’t help but feel relieved. Mulling was better than bolting.

“Take all the time you need,” I assured. “I’m not going anywhere.”

This had to work. He had to understand.